


i ain't scared of lightning

by scorpiod



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Dry Humping, Incest, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Series, Sibling Incest, Storms, mentions of child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-04 06:02:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16341173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiod/pseuds/scorpiod
Summary: Three times Richie Gecko couldn't sleep.





	i ain't scared of lightning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [opheliahyde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/opheliahyde/gifts).



> This is less based on a specific prompt you gave, and more based on various things in your likes. I hope you enjoy!

**Ten**.

There's a thunderstorm, keeping him awake, the rain battering against the roof, and the occasional roar of thunder rolling against his ears. Richie had never been a heavy sleeper. With Ray, you learn quickly to be alert and aware at all times, for your own sake. 

Not that it helped most of the time. 

This particular night, Ray hadn't come home yet. Richie didn't know where he was at, but he hoped he didn't come back. He hoped he'd get struck by lightning. He hoped Ray would piss off the wrong person one of these days and he’d end up shot, the Gecko brothers orphans. 

He thinks about that a lot.

This night, Seth wakes Richie up, his voice loud in his ear, loud as the thunder. “Richie,” he whined. “ _Richie_.”

“What?” He grumbles, face first into a pillow.

“There's a storm out,” he says, pointing to the window. Lighting flashes in their room, lighting Seth's face up in gold and shadow. 

“You scared?” Richie asks, not sure why he was woken up. Seth tended to just crawl in his bed whenever he wanted and Richie never questioned it. Especially when Seth didn't really have a bed. He had more of a cot, a box spring with some blankets placed on it that always hurt to sleep on. He remembered when the old man used to say, _it's just until I get some more steady cash flow, kid, alright?_

It wasn't a lie. Ray was always lacking for cash, even when he stole it but Richie suspected Ray just didn't give a shit what they slept on. He was just lucky to have a working bed because Mom gave a damn at some point, before Seth, before everything else.

“No,” Seth scoffs, walking up to the window. Seth isn't scared of anything, or so he likes to say, with bruises on his face and a split lip. _See, Richie, I can take it_. “It's cool.”

A crack of thunder runs through the air, startling Richie to full wakefulness. He isn't scared but loud noises always bothered him. He could hear the rain pouring outside, violently now, a constant swell that beats against their threadbare roof. Somewhere in the house a leak has sprung and there's a 50/50 chance Ray will take it out on them. 

“Let's go outside,” Seth says, bouncing up to him, full of childish energy and glee he doesn't get to have often. “C'mon.”

“Seth,” Richie calls out, “wait, don't, you're gonna get sick.“

But Seth is already out the door, rushing towards the rain and the dark sky, leaving the door open for any rain or animal or wind to blow in. 

Richie actually takes the time to put on his shoes, grab his glasses and some kind of jacket--he grabs the coat he used for last winter, and chases after Seth. 

“You're going to track water in,” he grumbles, once he gets outside. The water hits him hard, obscuring his glasses almost immediately. He takes them off, to wipe them clean but his clothes are already too wet to do much good and putting them back on just results in smeared, shitty vision. He can't tell where Seth is--he can't see much at all, except for the shapes of their neighbor houses around them, the vague outline of trees and powerlines, and the bright flashes of lightning in the air, turning the sky light blue for an instant. 

“Shit,” Richie curses to himself, blinking around him, trying to find Seth. He wants to go back inside, where it's warm and dry and he can at least see and make his way around, but he can't leave Seth out here to fend for himself, where Ray could come home any minute and find him where he shouldn't be.

A cool, wet hand takes his and Richie instantly feels himself growing calmer, reaching back and squeezing tight. They both stand there, letting the rain fall down on their heads, until they are soaked to the bone, Richie shivering but holding on to Seth.

“I'm here,” Seth tells him. “I'm here, brother.” 

 

 **Thirteen**.

Richie has been lying awake for hours now, clock ticking over so slowly, minutes taking hours to go by, caught in his own limbo where time doesn't move at all.

It's summer. A hot scorching one, higher temperatures than normal, and neither of them were sleeping with any blankets on tonight, just lying on the sheets. Richie is more exposed than normal, the starchy sheets scratching against his bare skin. He is warm all over, heat pooling in his belly, body feverish and bright. It's too uncomfortable to sleep, at least for him. Seth snored on just fine.

The two of them are both down to just underwear, briefs their only covering, the only bit of fabric they could stand to have on their skin right now. Seth sleeps with an arm possessively thrown around him, like he needs to declare his claim in his sleep. _This is mine_ , as if being blood related isn't enough of a claim. His face is tucked into Richie’s shoulder, breath hot as he breathes in and out. 

Richie's cock is hard. 

So he can't sleep. Can't relax his body and mind enough, heart pounding and dick throbbing, consumed with thoughts of Seth waking up and _seeing_ , and then--

His mind always stops there. It doesn't go past that. That's too far.

He reminds himself that it wouldn't be _awful_ if Seth realized he was hard; Seth would just tease him about it. It would be embarrassing and he'd hear about it for weeks, but livable. Just Seth being Seth. Both of them have already seen each other’s dicks before and Richie already knows the sounds Seth makes when he jacks off; Seth has less shame than he does, and Richie’s heard him jerking it in the middle of the night when he thought Richie was asleep, Richie holding himself still and silent and trying to will his own hard-on away. 

There's never been much space between them. It gets smaller and smaller every year. 

Maybe he'd be less warm, less inclined to uncomfortable hard-ons, if Seth slept in his own bed like he's supposed to--he has one, one Eddie bought them when they moved in, just a few feet away from Richie's, bed made like it was still new--but Seth never adjusted to sleeping in it by himself, whether he got to used crawling into Richie's bed as a kid over the cot he had, got used to the brief period of time where they only had one fold out couch to sleep on together after their house burned down, before Eddie could scrounge up the money for two twin beds. Maybe it doesn't even matter. 

Slowly, Richie pulls himself away from Seth, inch by inch, sliding himself off the bed. He is half hanging off, one foot on the ground, one leg still tucked in, when Seth makes a groggy moan, half bitten off, muffled in sheets. 

Richie freezes. He stays still for what feels like a lifetime ( _tick tick tick_ of the clock, Seth's breath evening out, inhale exhale and Richie’s heart is the loudest thing in the room), until he’s sure Seth won't move again, won't breathe like that again, and finishes his slow careful slide down to the floor. 

From there, it's easy, home free. He trots down the hallway, past Eddie’s room, the door closed and private, until he hits the bathroom, the light flickering and struggling for a moment before it turns on.

Home free, but he can see his face--his cheeks red and flushed, embarrassingly _obvious_. His freckles stand out against his skin like pock marks--and worse yet, can see the ridiculous bulge in his brief under the harsh fluorescents. 

Richie frowns at himself in the mirror. He splashes water on his face but the heat doesn't die, fever-horny as ever. Away from Seth, it's not as bad, just embarrassing, the lack of control over his own body. He thinks about embracing discipline and leaving his cock untouched, willing it down with a cold shower, but by himself there's no need for anything so unpleasant. Seth is sleeping soundly down the hall, and away from him, he doesn't have to worry or think, can just reach down and--

Richie bites down on a gasp. Just pressing his palm against his clothed dick makes him shudder, the sudden burst of friction, however mild, turning his cheeks hotter still. He shuts off the bathroom lights, feeling the need to not see so clearly, and reaches into his briefs, beginning to pull the material away. 

“Richie.” 

Seth's voice is soft in the darkness. Barely a whisper, yet thunderously loud to Richie. He nearly jumps out of his skin and he definitely places both palms on the sink, jumping away from his own cock like it burned him. He almost shouts at him but he can't risk waking Eddie up, swallowing down whatever he wants to say. He opens his mouth but whatever comes out is a ragged gasp. 

Seth had snuck up on him--Richie can't figure out when, so sure he heard him snoring just a bit ago, so sure he just looked down the hallway to see darkness but now he stands just outside the threshold of the bathroom, hovering like a vampire that needed an invite, his messy brown hair in his face. 

“What are you doing?” He asks. The sleep is still in his voice, like he may still be in a dream. He almost looks innocent, no bad intentions in his eyes and face. 

“Nothing,” Richie says and grabs the door handle to close it--he should have done it first thing. He should have put on his glasses. Everything feels very urgent and too late. 

Seth grabs the door handle as well, pulling it further open. He blinks owlishly at him. 

“Are you jerking off?” Seth asks. A bit of life comes into his voice, alertness beginning to hit him, the hints of a grin forming.

Richie shakes his head. “No, I'm trying to piss, go away--”

“Can I see?” Seth and steps over the threshold, closing the door behind them. He gets right in Richie’s space, staring down between Richie’s legs, looking far too closely. Seth stands a little shorter than Richie, eyes at his mouth; they used to be the same height but Richie’s growth spurt gave him a few inches over him now, waiting for Seth to catch up. 

“No,” Richie says, overly exposed, wanting to the grab the towel on the hook to cover himself but he's not even naked. His face is very hot now, sweat forming at his brow.

“C’mon,” Seth cajoles. He switches on the light and Richie blinks, startled by the sudden, painful brightness. There's a smirk on his brother’s face. “I've seen it before.”

“Then why do you need to see it again?”

Seth reaches out and grabs the hems of his briefs. He doesn't pull them down but Richie freezes. His cock is still hard, and Seth being this close makes him twitch, suck in a gasp. 

“I just wanna see,” he says. 

Richie can't say why he does it. Maybe Seth’s pleas get to him, maybe it feels innocent between them, in the moment--or maybe the way Seth bites his lip, tongue darting out briefly, the hair in his eyes, the light across his face, sparks something in Richie he doesn't want to give name to just yet 

( _or the easiest answer of them all--he just wants to_ ). 

Without thinking further, he pulls his briefs down, with Seth's hands guiding him. Not all the way, hitting him mid thigh. He grabs his cock, wrapping his hand around the shaft, feeling like he should hold it steady, biting down on the moan he wants to let out. He closes his eyes, just briefly, letting himself enjoy that moment of pleasure, his own touch, even if Seth is standing right there, watching, witnessing.

Seth makes a whine in the back of his throat like a puppy. “You're bigger than me,” he says, petulant. 

“You'll get bigger,” Richie reminds him. “Taller, too.”

Seth nods but doesn't seem to be listening. He stares at Richie’s cock like it's a marvel, his mouth parted open, breath coming in just a little fast. With Seth's eyes on him, Richie feels silly instead good about himself, holding his actual dick in hand like it's going to fall off.

Richie starts to pull his underwear back up when Seth reaches out to touch and Richie bats his hand away in surprise, almost leaping away.

Seth gazes at his, his eyes plainly hurt. 

“Bro,” Richie says, like a reminder. 

“I wanna feel,” Seth insists. 

“That's...” Richie trails off, unable to form a good protest. There's a line here they shouldn't cross, he knows that, but Richie doesn't know where it is. The space between them has always been small.

“Do you wanna feel?” Seth asks then, not waiting for a response. He has that drugged out tone of being caught in a dream, or maybe that's just Richie, still dreaming. 

“What?” Richie asks, because for the first time he stops thinking about his own dick and notices the bulge in Seth’s underwear, matching his, but of course, Seth is hard too. Everything gets him hard. That's not surprising.

They're thirteen and it's not a big deal--all that rutting and jerking off into a pillow, the bed, his socks, a hand, all part of the puberty package, part of his body shooting up in height and hair finally growing out, his voice cracking at the worst moments. 

Richie fucking hates being thirteen. It's a useless fucking age where he loses control of everything that used to be easy, everything he used to know.

“Seth, don't,” he warns him.

“I want you to feel,” Seth says, as he reaches for Richie's hand, as he pulls him closer. He doesn't stick his hand in his underwear, merely brings it to the front where the bulge is. They both gasp--there's not much to it, both their dicks small comparatively, but it feels like the whole world narrows down to here, this, now. Seth's eyes go wide _wide_ , mouth parted open in a silent moan. Richie should apologize, pull back, but instead he squeezes, can't help himself and Seth--

Seth moans, eyes fluttering shut, the noise starkly loud in the bathroom. Richie pulls away then, horrified, wondering if they woke Eddie up, and he's about to apologize, say something meaningless like _I shouldn't have_ or _we can't_ when--

Their lips meet. Richie doesn't know who closed the space between them. Does it matter? Seth tastes like sweat and copper, lips dry against his, but then there's tongue, brushing up tentatively against his teeth, warm and soft and wet. Suddenly, he can hear the beat of Seth’s pulse too. Suddenly they are both warm all over, fever catching and spreading. 

It's not their first kiss. It won't be the last. 

 

 **Sixteen**.

“Richie, wake up.”

Seth's voice is a hoarse whisper in the dark. Richie can feel it, the shape of it, the hot salty breath of it, along his back, between his shoulder blades, and then on his neck, traveling along his body's lines.

“Wake up,” Seth says, demanding this time, demanding his attention. His mouth, his voice, his tongue more insistent. Seth had pulled back his covers in the middle of the night, leaving Richie down to just a tank and sweatpants, letting the autumn chill get to him. 

Richie ignores him. He keeps his head on the pillow, holds his body still and doesn't wake up, even if sleep may be a foregone conclusion. 

“Richie,” Seth says, a playful lilt in his voice, like he already knows Richie is awake. Richie feels the tip points of Seth’s fingers, running down gently against his spine. “Richie, I'm boooored--”

“I'm not your goddamn entertainment,” Richie snaps. The pillow muffles most of the irritation in his voice, muted and softened but the words are clear. 

Seth laughs, low and throaty. “I knew you were awake, brother.” Tip tops of his fingers down his spine. Richie fights off a shiver. His voice dips lower to a whisper. “I can't sleep.”

“Only because you're a pain in my ass,” Richie grumbles. 

“Richie--”

“I'm serious,” Richie says. “We have class in the morning. Have some warm milk, count sheep, and go the fuck to sleep.”

For a moment, Seth says nothing. Richie feels a twinge of guilt--Seth’s always had night terrors, less now, almost never now that Ray’s long dead but what if they were starting again?

Richie feels the bed move, shuffle a bit, then a weight lifting off it. Then the padding of bare feet, drifting away. Richie can't believe Seth would actually listen to him but he pulls the blanket back over himself, covering his head, like he could merge himself with it. It's a chilly night, not exactly cold yet but the warmth of summer is gone, and he wants to bundle himself up in blankets. Bundle himself up in Seth, ideally, if Seth were interested in sleeping. 

Richie almost manages to drift back to sleep, consciousness fading away, when Seth’s weight lands back on the bed, dipping down low, before lying full on Richie’s back. 

At sixteen, Seth is still a small guy, but he's not underweight anymore, with strong runner’s legs and a mean left hook. He lacks any discipline for school but he manages to get some kind of work out most days, doing his hardest to look mean enough not to be picked on. He's not a skinny little nobody Ray used to knock around anymore and he can easily hold and press Richie to the bed without much effort. 

Richie grunts but otherwise refuses to acknowledge him, not wanting to play his childish game. For a moment, Seth doesn't really do anything but lie down on him, pressing him into the mattress, into the pillow, treating Richie like _his_ own personal mattress. His breath is hot against his ear, nose against his skin. There's a rustle of movement and--

Richie grits his teeth in frustration, because his dick is getting hard now, of course it is, that's Seth’s game--work him up until he can't sleep--and he hates how easy it is, the skin to skin contact even when it's just slips of skin, back of his neck and the bits of his shoulder that his tank exposes. The weight of him, the ever constant beat of his heart, going straight to his cock. _Goddammit._

“Richie,” Seth says. His voice dips low, rough around the edges, the way Seth knows Richie likes, the way that gets girls all hot and bothered, and Richie pretends to not be jealous and hateful when he notices, but Seth knows. 

( _Seth always knows_ )

Seth shifts then, arching and moving around and Richie can't tell what he's doing until his knees and thighs bracket just one of Richie’s legs, not fully on his back anymore, having slipped down a bit and--

Richie makes a soft aborted moan when he feels Seth’s cock stir, heavy and warm against the back of his thigh, pressing against his skin. It's covered in damp cloth but it may as well be bare skin, the way it got Richie’s ears heated. 

He expects a comeback from Seth but he just slides his hand under Richie’s shirt, fever hot. He can feel his hand between his shoulder blades like a brand, palm against his skin, before he curves his fingers in and runs them down his spine all the way to the small of his back. 

And then further down, slipping into his underwear, cupping a bare ass cheek, like he could own him like this, his hands curved into possessive claws.

Richie sighs. It’s a sound of both of resentment, of _why are you always like this_ , and a strange contentment, the warmth and familiarity and the easy way Seth touches him, when the world closes down to just them and everything else falls away. Richie can no longer pretend to be asleep, can no longer act like he's gone back to dreams but he doesn't wanna move from where he is, wants to lie there and see what Seth will do to him. 

It's almost romantic, when it's just him and Seth, or what he thinks romance would be like: Richie doesn't know. Everything he knows about romance, he knows from movies--doll face women and skirts blowing in the wind and Lauren Bacall telling him to whistle, _Breakfast at Tiffany's_ and _Some Like It Hot_ \--like he learned everything else from movies with Seth. 

Seth doesn't say anything, doesn't even ask for permission, he just slips his hands further, pushing a finger between his ass cheeks. Richie feels it against his hole, pressing against that tight pucker, his touch lingering. It doesn't really feel good but it doesn't feel bad either, makes Richie feel _something_ , burning anticipation that coils and twists in his gut. It's a tight squeeze--Seth's not even trying to slip it in and fuck him like this, he's just teasing like the dick he is, feeling Richie up from top to bottom like he's entitled to, and Richie wants to lie here and see what his brother will do with him, spread his body down and tell him _come play_. 

Seth's finger pushes, puts pressure on his hole, almost slips in, and it lasts but a moment but Richie cries out against the pillow, whimpering, _do it do it do it_ echoing in his head, even though they don't have lube, even if the words get lost in translation, stuck in his throat. But Seth's hand stills, pulls away to grab his shoulder instead, and his hips begin to move against Richie, at first just pressing his body further down, moving slow. His mouth opens against the top of his spine, where neck meets back, hot and wet, tonguing his skin until there's spit all over him, moving his hips against him the whole time. 

Richie moans for real then, when he realizes Seth is _humping_ him, like a fucking dog in heat, rutting his dick against him. He moans again when he does the same, trying to grind his hips against the bed beneath him, push back into Seth for more, encouraging, but it's hard; Seth has too much weight and too much control over him and he can barely move like this. He's being jostled and shoved against the mattress more than moved, pushed and ground down into it by Seth's rhythmic movements.

There's just an aching bit of friction on his dick, but it's not enough, it's only enough to get him all riled up, feel sparks go up and down his spine and that electric curl of warmth in his gut that turns his mind into mush, into a pleasure obsessed idiot. For a moment, they both make the same noise, the same ragged burst of a groan that comes from deep in their bellies; Richie feels the noise Seth makes in his bones, reverberating all the way down where Seth lives inside him as well. 

He feels Seth come then, warmth spreading all over the back of his thigh, the fluid contained by Seths briefs and held at bay by the cloth barrier, but the dampness and stickiness makes itself known when Seth rubs up against him. His brother bites down on his shoulder, hard enough so Richie gasps, then muffles his noises on the pillow, downy fluff in his mouth as his teeth dig in. Seth just collapses on top of him then, dead weight and sticky sweaty skin, his heavy musky scent comforting and familiar. Richie is still hard but he can't move at all anymore, just sit there with Seth and wait to be let up, breathing hard.

He stays like that until Seth makes a noise like a whine, small and mewling. He slowly inches away beside Richie, giving him finally the space to move. 

Richie rolls over, and wishes he could say something, think something, _do something_ when Seth looks at him with his wide, blown out brown eyes that are almost swallowed whole by the black of his pupils, the slick mouth, red lips--he looks so good like that, like he'd be good to kiss, good to bite, but Richie can't think anymore, he just reaches for his cock and wraps his hand around it, moaning low at the contact, _finally_ , eyes going half lidded as he jerks it.

Seth reaches forward to help, out of guilt, maybe, or shaky desire, but Richie comes too quickly, just a couple of tugs on his cock and he’s shooting, his come covering his hand and hitting the skin of Seth's palm and wrists and forearms.

“Sorry,” he mutters, and then collapses on the bed, letting his body fall and go boneless. He can feel sleep catching up to him now, trying to claim him. He's somewhat aware he should clean his hands, change his clothes. Change the sheets. They're gonna be gross in the morning and Seth never does any laundry, and someone is gonna have to sleep in the wet spot. 

He doesn't move. He's fully aware of Seth, even now, can feel him close, the weigh and breath of him. He sees, out of the corner of his eyes, Seth bring his fingers to his mouth and lick off the remains of Richie’s come. 

“Jesus,” Richie whispers.

Seth giggles. Richie feels, rather than watches, Seth remove his underwear, tossing it on the ground like the slob he is. He then climbs next to him on the bed, curling up at his side, arm across Richie's body, like always. Seth brings the heavy blanket down on them both so they're wrapped up in warmth and each other. 

“Can you sleep now?” Richie asks, half amused, half-irritated, all tired.

Seth doesn't say anything. He moves again, grabbing Richie and rolling him around, manhandling him into the right position. 

Richie yelps-- _fuck, Seth, I'm tired, again already?_ \--but Seth just rolls him over on his side, so they're facing each other. Richie can see the wet pink of Seth’s lips and the sweat on his brow, even in the darkness, even with the covers pulled over them like they're both children instead of almost adults. 

He leans in and Richie follows his lead, muscle memory straining towards each other until their foreheads touch together. 

“Yeah, I can now,” Seth says. Richie falls asleep right after that, the two of them closed parentheses, Seth keeping him warm.


End file.
